THE FAERIE QUEENE by Edmund Spenser TO The ... - Planet.ee

www.TaleBooks.comXLV. But he, sad man, when he had long in dredeAwayted there for Britomarts returne,Yet saw her not, nor signe of her good speed,His expectation to despaire did turne,Misdeeming sure that her those flames did burne;And therefore gan advize with her old Squire,Who her deare nourslings losse no lesse did mourne,Thence to depart for further aide t' enquire:Where let them wend at will, whilest here I doe respire.FOURTH_BOOKETHE FOURTH BOOKECONTAYNING THE LEGEND OF CAMBEL AND TRIAMOND,OR OF FRIENDSHIPI. THE rugged forhead, that with grave foresightWelds kingdomes causes and affaires of state,My looser rimes (I wote) doth sharply witeFor praising love as I have done of late,And magnifying lovers deare debate;By which fraile youth is oft to follie led,Through false allurement of that pleasing baite,That better were in vertues discipled,Then with vaine poemes weeds to have their fancies fed.II. Such ones ill judge of love that cannot love,Ne in their frosen hearts feele kindly flame;Forthy they ought not thing unknowne reprove,Ne naturall affection faultlesse blameFor fault of few that have abusd the same;For it of honor and all vertue isThe roote, and brings forth glorious flowres of fame,That crowne true lovers with immortall blis,The meed of them that love, and do not live amisse.III. Which who so list looke backe to former ages,And call to count the things that then were donne,Shall find that all the workes of those wise sages,And brave exploits which great Heroes wonne,In love were either ended or begunne:Witnesse the father of Philosophie,Which to his Critias, shaded oft from sunne,Of love full manie lessons did apply,The which these Stoicke censours cannot well deny.IV. To such therefore I do not sing at all;But to that sacred Saint my soveraigne Queene,In whose chast brest all bountie naturallAnd treasures of true love enlocked beene,Bove all her sexe that ever yet was seene:To her I sing of love, that loveth best,And best is lov'd of all alive, I weene,To her this song most fitly is addrest,Page 386 , Faerie Queene, The - Edmund Spenser